Raised by an Unkindness
by HarpLeaf
Summary: Raised by Raven's tribe, all Valentine Cora has known since she was little is raiding and stealing. It's a life that she's grown comfortable with until one raid changes it all. A moment of weakness - a single mistake - and her entire world explodes around her. Forced to survive on her own, Valentine is thrown on a harsh path. Could Beacon be a path to redemption? Realistic OC.


**A/N: Hey guys! This is an idea that I came up with when trying to write the next chapter of Jack of All Trades - and suddenly I became engrossed and planned out a whole plotline. Oh, the things I do to myself. I'm not Coeur Al'Aran! (The demigod of RWBY fanfiction... the man is a machine.) My productivity is trash. I'm barely hanging with the one story as it is... the answer is to get more productive, right?**

 **Right.**

 **I'll do my best for you guys. Love you all, and hope you enjoy!**

Killed by mercy. Mercy, weakness – whatever you wanted to call it, a single act of kindness was currently in the process of tearing the world asunder. The cobblestone streets were slick underfoot with either rain, blood, or some combination of both as guards and bandits that had been fighting each other moments before were banded together by the common enemy they had found.

Dark shadows slid in and out between buildings, sickening white outcroppings of bone briefly catching the light of fires that were burning. Red eyes gazed hungrily at the overwhelming miasma of negativity that the grimm were basking in.

Valentine looked around with a detached feeling of surreality at the horror of her surroundings, brain unable to process what was happening.

One of the shadows detached itself from a building, howling a piercing war cry as it charged the lone woman in the middle of the street. Valentine pivoted almost on instinct, one of her axes flashing in a glittering arc around to sever the arm of the sprinting Beowulf that was poised to strike. Her rotational motion carried her effortlessly into an aerial, the crippled body of her opponent sliding under her.

As the bleeding mass ground to a halt, it was a simple matter for Valentine to stalk over and bury a hatchet into the grimm's skull ending its humanlike screams of pain. Perhaps the Beowulf didn't sound humanlike, but it was becoming more and more difficult to distinguish the screams of the hellspawn from the shrieks of the villagers who were being torn apart.

A man knelt on the ground, gibbering weakly, holding his intestines that spilled out of a gut wound as if a Beowulf's powerful jaws weren't closing on his skull.

Bronze and steel flashed as a gang of guards thrust spears deep into an Ursa, spilling its dark viscous fluids even as they turned to dark mist.

There was a woman who sacrificed herself in vain, her small daughter having nowhere to run. Mere seconds later the girl was struck by the sweeping blow of an Ursa's front paw, the sheer force deforming the child's body as if her bones had been liquified.

 _There's no time. You can't save them if they can't save themselves. The strong survive, the weak perish._

Despite the mantra that had been drilled into her for half of her eighteen years of her life, Valentine couldn't help but feel a tug in her gut to not just defend herself but to actively help those citizens that couldn't defend themselves. The screams and agonizing pleas for help tore at her heart until she was fit to burst with conflicting emotion.

 _They're not worth it. They're not human. They're prey-_

"Oum please!" a shrill voice pleaded.

"Damn it all," growled Valentine, sweeping the wet, matted hair off her forehead before taking off in a dead sprint.

Her first target was an Ursa that was threatening a small group of farmers who were attempting to hold the beast at bay with pitchforks and other tools, making a circle around their wives and children to protect them. It turned to meet Valentine as a war cry exploded out of her lips.

Sliding to her knees between the Ursa's forelegs, the young bandit cleaved her axe upwards through the breastbone and into the chest cavity. The axe was wrenched from her hand as it caught on something deep inside the grimm, the cutting edge no longer facing the direction of motion. Valentine rolled out of the collapsing beast as another Beowulf bore down on the assembled group.

With no time to retrieve the axe, Valentine's right hand launched forward with all the force of a cannon to send the hatchet tumbling through the air. Her aim wasn't perfect and the hatchet, instead of severing the Beowulf's head or slashing its throat, simply sliced the snout off the beast – but it proved to be enough.

The Beowulf whined pitifully as it pawed helplessly where its mouth and nose used to be. Valentine simply summoned up a burst of strength and punched a fist down the open hole of its throat before activating her bracers. A row of backwards facing teeth punched out of the gauntlet digging into the Beowulf's trachea.

The sharp implement that was usually used for climbing trees was today put to a very different use. With a backwards ripping motion Valentine pulled out the grimm's throat, killing it instantly.

Her eyes darted side to side to show the immediate danger gone. Taking the brief lull in the action, Valentine spat out some bitter grimm blood that had ended up in her mouth when she had killed the Ursa.

To the group she had just rescued Valentine appeared as much demon as savior. Her soft heart-shaped face, decorated with a smattering of freckles on her cheeks, was belied by the hard lines around her pink eyes and mouth. Grimm-blood steamed off her brown hair, cut in a bob and pulled back in a short ponytail, as well as the long tan tunic that served as her shirt giving Valentine an almost ethereal quality.

"Get moving," roared the wraith, gesturing with an arm at one of the structures still standing. "Lock yourselves in a basement. Go!" With that final word the farmers were galvanized into action, hardly able to believe that they had been allowed to live a day longer by a bandit.

 _They don't deserve to live,_ growled some part of Valentine. _Look at them scurry to shelter like animals to the slaughter, not even fighting like the members of my family. My tribe- my family – is strong. I should be helping them, not the weaklings._ Yet the visceral image of the woman sacrificing herself for her daughter refused to leave. _Facing down grimm with no hope of survival. Is that strength? Did she deserve to be saved?_

Shaking her head like a dog, the young woman tried to rid herself of her internal struggle. Years of indoctrination into the mantra of "the weak exist only to feed the strong" was a hard block to overcome, but there was an ember somewhere in her core that told her that she should save those that couldn't protect themselves. _From when I wasn't strong. But then the tribe took me in and molded me into what I am. I can't fall back into that._

 _Not again. Not after it caused all of this._

Valentine bent over and grabbed the haft of her axe, planting a foot in the crumbling Ursa's side do drag the head from where it had found purchase. The hatchet was not long in following, her toe sliding under it and flipping up into a waiting hand.

"Brat! Is that you? The hell are you doing?" called a wavery voice from behind her.

With an over-exaggerated sigh, Valentine shoved her hatchet into a leather loop in her belt. "Killing grimm just like you taught me Rune."

The man walking up the road had a sallow and sunken face and a grizzled grey beard that fed into a bald head. His lithe body, though wrinkled and spotted, was still hard with knotted muscle from a lifetime of hard work. He carried a stylized cavalry sabre and had a revolver that hung at his hip, though that was mostly for decoration; his watery eyes had long since lost the keen vision of his youth. Rune refused to wear glasses in combat though he always carried a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles he had acquired on a raid.

"What?" he yelled back, not quite close enough yet to hear clearly.

"Kicking ass Rune!" shouted Valentine, used to the old man's damaged ears.

"You're helping the damn worms escape?" rasped Rune. "I taught you better than that." A flock of small nevermores flew by, causing the ancient bandit to pull out his revolver and fire off a handful of shots. Only one dust-round connected to send the singular black bird tumbling back to Remnant. "Damn," he grunted, reloading and re-holstering his firearm.

"Anything you want, old man? Or did you just come to chat?" said Valentine, absentmindedly flipping her axe from hand to hand.

"A question, actually. Whose duty was it to eliminate the guard at the tower?"

Ice spilled down the back of Valentine's spine at that simple question. "Which tower?"

"The southeast corner. The tower where the alarm was triggered, brat. The tower that was the start of this cesspool." Shots and shouts still rang out from all around, mixed with the sounds of roaring grimm.

Valentine's hand clutched tightly around her axe, the fingers of her right drumming a nervous tattoo into the head of her sheathed hatchet. "Draken was supposed to."

Rune's heavily lined eyes squinted suspiciously at her. "I saw Draken before the fighting began. It's a hell of a thing to see a man with aura and a broken arm." Valentine opened her mouth, only to have it shut by Rune cutting her off. "Don't play word games with me brat. Whose responsibility, was it?"

"Mine," she choked out, body tense as she watched Rune's hand twitch on the hilt of his sabre. The old man began muttering under his breath, rocking back and forth as if having received a shock to his system.

"Again?" he seemed to whisper to himself. "It can't happen again."

Valentine attempted to softly slide her hatchet out from her belt, but the small movement seemed to snap Rune out of his stupor. "Put that away, brat. I'm not going to hurt you, much as others might want to."

"You're…not?" asked Valentine hesitantly, still not willing to relinquish her grip on her weapons.

"No, damn it. I'm here to help," waved Rune. "Damn, and you thought I'd turn on my own pupil so soon. But you gotta help me help you." Valentine relaxed slightly, but only slightly. "Now, does anyone else know about this?"

Valentine paused, carefully considering her answer. "No one would know we switched roles except Draken. I was just supposed to shadow him… but then he broke his arm and I had to take his place."

"And how the hell did that happen?" grunted Rune, chewing on his lip.

"He tried to catch a full-bodied blow from an Ursa that we stumbled across."

"That sounds like Draken," chuckled Rune.

"I believe his exact words were, 'watch this shit'," quoted Valentine, feeling some of the tension vacate her body as Rune laughed.

"Yeah, that's something that brat would say," the old man grinned. "He spent half his time under his mentor doing some damn foolish thing."

A cacophony of noise off to one side drew the attention of both bandits as a small pack of beowulfs gathered, howling madly as they prepared to assault the army of two. Instead of waiting, the master and apprentice charged the beasts at the same time.

"But Draken is the only one? You're sure?" grunted Rune as he fired into the mass of charging grimm.

Valentine didn't even have to break stride as she responded, her thrown hatchet burying itself deep into the skull of a grimm. "He was the only one. Don't know if he's told anyone." Yanking her hatchet from the downed beast, Valentine continued onwards in a display of brutal efficiency.

A beast ran over towards Rune only to have him thrust his saber between its ribs, ending its life swiftly. "Good to hear brat. I may be able to get us off the hook on this one."

"Us?" asked Valentine, sidestepping a beowulf before bringing her axe down like a guillotine. "I'm pretty sure I'd be the only one in hot water for this."

"Mmhmm," grunted Rune, emptying the remainder of his revolver into the last grimm, shaking the spent shell casings out the back. "Well brat, it looks like things are quieting down."

Indeed, the roars seemed to be growing fainter and less frequent. Instead of an overwhelming tide of unearthly howls the outbreaks seemed to be more isolated and sparse. Finally, it seemed the grimm were being pushed back.

"Damn. I'll have to move quick before we get all regrouped," rasped Rune. "Do you know where my old apprentice might have headed?"

"Draken? I don't think he went far beyond the southeast tower. I'm pretty sure that's where the healers would have set up anyway, so I don't see him going to much farther. If he's not there, I don't know," guessed Valentine, wiping off the head of her hatchet on the coarse fur of a disintegrating grimm. She paused uncertainly, a frown creasing her face. "What's the point of seeing Draken? How are you going to get me out of this?"

"I'll fix it. You stay right here, ya hear brat?" Rune placed callused hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently to reassure her as he had many a time during her training. "I want to be able to find you easy when I get back. Don't worry about a damn thing." With those parting words, her mentor turned about and took off with his odd limping jog.

 _What the hell is he going to do?_ wondered Valentine, picking absentmindedly at her nails, digging out the dirt and drying blood before flicking it away. Whatever it was it would certainly be against the limited moral code that the bandits employed, but Valentine couldn't care less.

Everyone in the bandit camp got one chance, and one chance only to uphold the most serious rules. Their leader Raven believed that a single opportunity was all that one deserved, and after that your failure would be punished either with excommunication from the tribe or death. After all, if you were smart enough and strong enough to deserve a place in the tribe you could uphold your duty. If you couldn't, then you weren't strong enough to be a member. Brutal though it may have been it kept the bandits alive and thriving in the harsh life they had chosen.

Valentine now faced her first and only strike; not upholding your assigned duty to the tribe during a raid was a serious offense because of how delicate the operation was. If one cog failed, the chain reaction would cripple the whole machine.

 _And people will die. Just like they have today._

But it didn't answer the question of _how._ There was no way on Remnant that Rune was going to be able to hide this, nor get people to gloss over it. The hardened men and women weren't likely to ever forget that she had been the catalyst for the death of so many, even if Raven would wave the punishment.

 _Hell, even Raven won't welcome me back on anything other than principle. She'll be happy to be rid of me at the first opportunity,_ thought Valentine despondently. _Just because she waves everyone's first fuck up doesn't mean she treats them equally._

Once again, it didn't answer the question of _how._ Valentine sat down on the remains of someone's front porch, trying to avoid answering that question. Staring over the ruined remains of the town Valentine tried to lose herself in swirling patterns of smoke that drifted all around, making her vision at any distance hazy. The sun had risen not too long ago and still cast long shadows on the ground.

Yet despite her best attempts to keep herself distracted Valentine's mind jumped back to the problem at hand conjuring up the only possible solution. _He's going to get Draken to take the fall for me. That has to be it. Draken is the only other one who could fail to accomplish his duty, and as long as I corroborate that story then Draken takes the hit._

At thes, Valentine stood agitatedly and began to pace, spinning and flipping her axe from hand to hand without second thought. There was no doubt in her mind that Rune could accomplish the task - that she did not question.

The only question now was should she allow it to happen. Valentine couldn't claim to be particularly virtuous. In fact, virtue did not quite exit. It was not acceptable to steal from the tribe because they were strong, but it was more than acceptable to take from the poor. You couldn't murder a member of the tribe, but taking the life of someone who couldn't defend it - well, what was the point of not being able to keep safe your very existence?

Wolves and foxes defended their lives through the act of attack. If they couldn't hunt successfully, they died. Deer and squirrels could run to escape the inevitable, but could never fight back. If they couldn't flee successfully, they died. That's why the hunters must be stronger than the prey. It was the law of nature - the weak perish, the strong survive.

It all made sense.

Which was why Valentine found herself in the conundrum that she did now.

Draken wasn't weak. He wasn't helpless prey - he was a predator, as strong or stronger than Valentine herself. _He is stronger,_ admitted the girl. _He wouldn't have hesitated to make the kill, to preserve the lives of our tribe._

Not only was he mentally strong enough to stomach the act in cold blood, but he was physically gifted in a way that served to make his overconfidence and cockiness quasi-justified. _He'd be humiliated to be blamed for something that he didn't do, the harsh ramifications aside. And Draken is not at all forgiving._

Valentine pictured her life: Constantly looking over her shoulder, sleeping with one eye open, drinking out of a flask - and that was just in camp, where it would be hard to get away with anything. But Valentine would likely still be paired with him on raids, one on one, where accidents could occur.

Fatal accidents.

 _Damn it all,_ she growled after a few more minutes of frustrated pacing. _Oum damn it._

Decision made, Valentine wasted no more time in dilly-dallying. The young woman shoved her axe back into its slot on the opposite side of the hatchet and took off at a lope in the direction that Rune had left.

Several small nevermores cawed and fled to the air as the young bandit ran past up the cobbled streets. There was seemingly no one left in the direction she was heading, save for the occasional guard or civilian that scattered the moment they saw Valentine.

 _Where the hell could he be?_ Valentine thought more and more desperately as she dashed around rubble that was strewn across the road haphazardly. She passed the upper torso of a villager chewed till it was unrecognizable, his legs trapped under a pile of lumber from a collapsed house. More bodies were scattered in various places with seemingly no pattern to the deaths that occurred. Several appeared to be buried under collapsed houses and a handful lay eviscerated in the streets.

Valentine managed to push through, keeping the horror locked away with glazed eyes. As she rounded a corner, Valentine couldn't help but let out a little cry of shock.

A woman lay suspended in the air, tangled in washing lines that ran between the houses. Her joints were twisted at unnatural angles, likely dislocated from the fall - perhaps dropped by a nevermore. As bad as that was, it wasn't what caught her attention. Suspended roughly ten feet in the air, her feet were arranged to be higher than her face. Apparently that put her body out of reach for something... but not her head. The woman was faceless in the most literal sense, most of the flesh stripped down ragged chunks hanging off a skull. Her blond hair clung to the bloodied mess as if trying to obscure the brutalities that had taken place.

Valentine's head began to throb and the world became fuzzy. Very deliberately, Valentine forced herself to turn and continue on, head bent and eyes half lidded. Bile stung her throat and forced its way into her mouth but she swallowed it back.

Shutting out the images that seemed burned into her brain, Valentine began compartmentalizing. Suppressing and pushing the grisly scene below the surface, the world seemed to come back to an even keel.

 _Just find Rune and Draken. Get it over with. Get this nightmare over with._

The only problem was she was nearly to the walls and tower but there was still no sign of either of her compatriots. Valentine felt a growing sense of dread, not aided any by the evidence of violence and fighting all around.

 _Dear Oum, I hope that woman was dead when she hit those ropes,_ prayed Valentine.

Shoving such sordid thoughts away for the second time in as many minutes, Valentine played with her axe nervously as she continued searching diligently. "Rune?" she called out softly, creeping through a cluster of homes. "Rune?"

"Damn it!"

The familiar muffled curse came from within one of the houses near Valentine, along with a brief clash of steel. "Rune?" the young woman shouted, louder this time. Without hesitation she kicked in the nearest door. The axe-wielding bandit's aura empowered kick tore the poor wooden slab from its frame, sending it tumbling.

The house would have been nice, with a very simplistic wooden construction. A high roof was supported by exposed cross beams, and the sun shone cheerfully through large windows. It wasn't big, and was only one room, with a bed, iron stove, and various furniture that was now scattered in disarray.

At the center of the disturbance were her teacher and Draken. Rune was advancing slowly as Draken backed into a corner, a single large serrated knife held out defensively. A second matching weapon was sheathed at his side unable to be drawn, his left arm dangling from a makeshift sling.

"Valentine get in here. This damn little cuss is tryin' to kill me!" roared Rune.

"No I - GAAHH - please Oum!" cried out Draken as he tried to absorb another blow from the sabre with his dagger, jarring the broken bone. "Help me please!"

Valentine turned helplessly back and forth between the two combatants as they slashed and lunged, Draken getting the worse of the exchange.

 _Who? What is going o-_

Suddenly Valentine was thrown off her feet and launched all the way from being in the doorway to nearly punching through the opposite wall of the house. It felt like being sucker punched by a giant who wasn't punching - but instead swinging a sledgehammer.

Her mouth opened and flopped like a fish out of water, gasping for air that would not enter her lungs. _Winded. Get up. Up!_ Even though she had not yet taken her first breath Valentine pushed herself onto her feet, the axe and hatchet flying into her hands on instinct.

An ursa was tearing at the doorway, trying desperately to fit into the dwelling to feed on the three humans in front of it. Its giant paws were shredding the wall like a battering ram as Rune pulled out his pistol and fired into the beast's face. The shots ricocheted off of the beast's armored skull or detonated on contact, drawing out a mournful roar as it retreated out of sight.

As soon as the ursa major was out of the way Rune turned his sights back to Draken and finished off the remaining rounds into the younger man's chest.

Draken desperately maneuvered his knife, but with only a single small blade and a crippled arm there was no way to deflect all the dust rounds. Several bullets impacted his muscular frame and detonated sending the large assassin tumbling to the ground. Rune was on him in a fraction of a second, stabbing downwards into Draken's chest.

There was a flash of dark green that rippled across Draken's body like a stone thrown into a pond.

Valentine lurched forward, finally taking in a shuddering breath. _Rune! Stop!_ she tried to scream, but words failed her.

The second strike was not stopped by aura. The saber sank deep into Draken's chest and lodged in place, the blade quivering in place from the force of the blow. A small dark stain slowly began spreading around the sword as the assassin bucked briefly. A single hand reached up and clasped the blade as if to try and pull it out; crimson blood ran in rivulets down the steel as his fingers were sliced open.

Then is was over. The hand fell away and Draken's body slumped unconscious. Rune callously yanked out his weapon and picked up a knitted coaster, wiping off the blood that shone on the end of his saber. The wound, now no longer stopped up by the sword, began bleeding in earnest as what was a small patch of blood rapidly soaked the shirt and spread to the floor.

"Rune…" croaked Valentine in shock.

Rune calmly turned to Valentine and opened his mouth as if to speak, but at that moment the ursa finally broke its way inside the cabin. The beast tumbled and rolled to a stop, splintering furniture and snapping support pillars like toothpicks.

The axe and hatchet began to dance in simple patterns, cutting a dozen gashes in the ursa major while Valentine weaved in and out of its powerful but clumsy strikes. A burst of fire saw the giant grimm thrash around as bullets impacted its vulnerable sides. The house seemed to shake and the roof swayed as master and apprentice lunged together and ended the beast's suffering.

Still panting, Valentine yanked the head of her hatchet out of the neck. Rune took a step closer and immediately the girl whirled, weapons at the ready.

"Stop," commanded Valentine, brandishing the hatchet. "Not one step closer."

"Easy there," said Rune, not heeding her warning.

Her hatchet flicked out and crashed into his wrist with astonishing force. "Damn it," hissed Rune, dropping the revolver in his hand and rubbing his forearm.

"I said not a step closer," repeated Valentine as she swept the revolver back with a foot and kicked it away. "What the hell have you done, Rune?"

"What had to be done," grimaced the old man.

"He had no aura!" protested Valentine, shock raising her voice's register. "He had a broken arm Rune! How could he possibly have been a threat?"

"Because he wouldn't shut his trap," frowned Rune, eyes flashing. "He wouldn't take the fall for you. If he'd just done that we might have avoided this damn mess."

"I would have taken it Rune! There was no need for outright murdering family for something he didn't do!" Valentine was still in shock, trying to process what had happened.

"Yes there was, brat. You do recognize that I've already used up my quota of grace?"

"Fine way of getting yourself exiled or killed then, murdering a member of the tribe-"

"It would have happened anyway," interrupted Rune, wringing his hands out. "Raven has had it out for me ever since her brother left the tribe."

Valentine paused, frowning as she tried to process what Rune had said. "Raven had a brother?"

"Yes," sighed Rune, pacing back and forth. "Qrow Branwen. That brat first learned how to swing a sword and scythe under me. Raven blames me for him being gone, for him having left the tribe."

"He left?" Valentine's mind screamed at her that she should leave, disable Rune, do anything except stand around and ask questions. The connection between thought and action seemed to be broken however, and her mouth ran on autopilot instead.

Rune gestured in one direction as if that alone was self-explanatory. "Both of 'em did. Left for that school up in Vale; Beacon, it was. I encouraged Qrow because I knew it'd make him a stronger fighter. They'd also provide him with the opportunity to land his hands on some mecha- shift weaponry." The old man sighed, kicking a chair off the floor and into his hands. He carefully sat down with a grunt before continuing. "One thing led to another and he told Raven and they were both gone. Raven never had any intention of staying, but Qrow… well, he was always a little off. He ended up leaving, and Raven blames me for planting the idea in his head."

"But… how does that affect what… what you did to Draken?"

"I told you already," said Rune agitatedly, wringing his hands together. "Raven wants me gone. All she needs as a second errant apprentice and she'll claim I'm teaching them ideas contrary to what the tribe believes."

Unable to contain himself to a chair any longer, Rune rose suddenly and began to pace. "I'm old, Valentine. I can't be running around alone in grimm infested territory. Cities are a damn trap too. I've gained a level of notoriety in my seventy years of doing this. I have to stay with the tribe. You understand, don't you? It was the only way."

 _He's insane,_ realized Valentine as she looked into his eyes. It was a hard realization for the student to come to, hard for her to accept. Rune had always been kind in a gruff, sort of distant manner. Even now, he didn't appear crazed in any way. He stared at her like he was teaching a lesson, waiting for Valentine to reach the same conclusion he had reached much earlier. Impatient, yes, but committed to walking the girl through it until she understood.

That was what worried Valentine the most.

It was the same expression and behavior he showed when he was teaching her to track game, plan an assault, or how to avoid a sentry's gaze. But now instead of explaining a skill, he was convincing Valentine that the murder of a friend was acceptable.

Same reaction. Same expression.

 _That's sociopathic._

Valentine's head shook of its own volition. It wasn't just a lack of understanding; Valentine didn't want to spend any more time with someone who would murder a member of the tribe.

 _Right now it's Draken; next time it could be me. All he needs apparently is a justification._

"I understand Rune," lied Valentine with as much sympathy as she could muster. "I'm grateful you did this for me. It'll work out much better now. I guess I was just shocked."

The old man just chuckled. "Of course I couldn't expect you to side with me immediately, brat. Oh? Surprised?" Valentine hastily rearranged her features into stone, but he clearly had seen. "You talk much more formally when you lie. You don't think I'd pick up on that with all the time we spent together?"

"Of course I can't side with you. There's a system, Rune! You can't murder people from the tribe," Valentine repeated desperately.

"And?" Blue eyes bored into her pink ones. "We kill people all the time. What makes him different?"

"He's a member of the tribe! The tribe takes care of one another because we're strong-"

"What a bunch of horse shit, _brat._ " For the first time in recent memory, Rune used the word not as a term of endearment. Instead he spat it out of his mouth like it was poison. "People kill each other all the time. There isn't some special rule for the tribe. He was weak, and couldn't defend his life. The members of the tribe defend one another because they need numbers to survive or they're afraid of Raven. Take your pick."

"But-" Valentine interjected only to have the old man cut her off once more.

"But numbers weren't going to protect me. Fear of Raven motivated me. There was no reason to keep him alive - all the benefits for me and you lay with him either taking the fall or ending up dead," Rune rasped. "Don't you understand?"

Nothing in Valentine agreed. The tribe always had the moral high ground because of their strength and how they stuck together like a pack of wolves. The predators. You couldn't have infighting in the group - that would cause anarchy. _What if I end up more useful to Rune dead than alive?_ A small shudder ran down her back. _What if I had ended up more useful dead a while ago?_

"You don't believe me, do you," sighed Rune, slumping back into the chair. "Just go."

"Rune, no it's -" Valentine instinctively moved forward to try and comfort the man who had long been almost a father figure to her. As she placed a hand down on Rune's shoulder, she barely had time to feel the rough material of the overcoat before an iron grip clamped around her wrist.

Valentine was thrown over her mentor's hip and impacted the ground hard. She rolled out of the way of a downward slash, kicking up back onto her feet. Her hatchet sprang back into her hand as Rune yanked the sabre free from its purchase in the wooden floor.

The sabre blurred forward, launching into a blinding pattern of stabs and slashes as Valentine warded off each attack. Deflecting a stab to the side with the head of her axe, Valentine was slow to react to a sweeping kick that hooked one of her legs and stumbled backwards. Taking the opening Rune charged, shoulder checking Valentine onto her back.

His sword lanced down and skated across her ribs.

Up until this point, there was a part of Valentine that hardly believed what was happening. The two had sparred so often that some part of her still refused to accept this side of her mentor she had never seen before. But Rune - at least the Rune Valentine used to know - would never have struck her with the edge of his blade. It was more for pragmatic reasons rather than Rune being gentle; if he didn't drain her aura as fast, they could train longer.

Valentine kicked up back to her feet once again, carving her weapons through the air in a desperate attack. Rune slid out of the path with a grace and agility that seemed to defy his advancing age and lashed back.

His sabre shrieked in protest as it made its way down her arm guard. Twisting her arm, Valentine caught the blade in the bracer's teeth and brought her other hand sweeping down. With the slim blade of the sabre locked in place Valentine's full-power blow sheared through the metal, leaving Rune with half a sword.

Undeterred, Rune backed off and swept up one of Draken's discarded daggers. Now with two oversized knives, Rune swung back into the offensive.

Whether or not Raven wanted to exile Rune as badly as he seemed to believe, there was a reason he was still used as a mentor for young bandits. Having survived so long in a state of constant warfare, Rune was proficient with virtually any weapon and fighting style. Having lost his sabre as a primary weapon wasn't any deterrent to the old man.

After several exchanges, Valentine could feel herself beginning to wear down. Her breath came in ragged pants as she battled back against the latest flurry of blows. Slowly her arms were becoming filled with the burn of lactic acid from swinging heavy weapons at speed and with precision for an extended period.

The same thing that had happened to Draken would eventually happen to her.

 _I need an equalizer,_ grunted Valentine as a knife caught her under the arm, sapping at more of her aura. _I've easily lost half my aura already._ The only thing that she could think of was a tactic that she had hardly had an opportunity to practice due to the morbid circumstances required.

It was hard for the young woman to focus on manipulating her semblance while still fighting, particularly as she had never attempted to use it on such a large scale.

 _Come on. Come on!_ screamed Valentine as she tried to coerce her semblance into life. Despite her best efforts her body was beginning to fail her. No matter how hard Valentine tried her arms couldn't muster the strength or stamina to match Rune's pace. Her mind was too panicked and scattered to focus on a single task properly, let alone two.

Finally her hatchet was stripped from her hand, skittering across the floor as she was now forced to bear the brunt of the attack with a single weapon.

"Gaahhhh!" roared Valentine, grabbing the leg of a stool that lay nearby and swinging it through the air with a burst of strength. Rune grunted as he absorbed the hit, unable to prevent the half-sword from being torn away. The remainder of the stool shattered as it hit Rune, splinters flying away with the length of steel.

Valentine hammered down several overhand blows, her left hand rising and falling as heavy blows beat Rune back. Ditching his remaining knife, Rune grabbed the hand with the axe and twisted.

Her face contorted into a grimace as she squirmed and fought, the pain in her wrist increasing as she tried to fight her way out of the lock. Throwing a fist over top, Rune grabbed a hand around the back of her neck and tried to yank her closer. Valentine jammed her forearm under his chin in his throat to keep him from moving closer as his right hand continued to crush her left.

Blood began to seep around the blades in her arm guard, Rune's aura unable to negate all the damage the constant pressure of the razor blades was causing.

Rune realized this quickly, and with a choked cry he slammed his knee upwards into Valentine's stomach. The second knee cracked directly into her solar plexus, driving all the air out of her lungs. Valentine tried to keep her position, but the two heavy impacts and a lack of oxygen made her position untenable.

Stripping away her forearm with a downward blow, Rune now used both hands to wrench Valentine's wrist until she was forced to drop the remaining axe. A shooting pain lanced up her arm as she managed to pull her hand away, something cracking as she did so.

With no opportunity for rest, Valentine once again found herself forced into action without an opportunity to recover her breath. Just as dangerous with weapons as without, Rune launched into a fistfight.

Rune never bothered with anything fancy; he had taught Valentine similarly. There were no flips, spins, or extravagant motion to his movement. Hooks, jabs, roundhouse and snap kicks were among the very few offensive moves he employed - but they were all honed to perfection.

Valentine was barely surviving with the weapons she was strong with, but with fists it was only a matter of time. She managed to land a few punches and block some of Rune's with her razor gauntlets, but finally a punch caught her right in the mouth.

There was a burst of light deep in her skull that overrode her motor function just long enough for Valentine to drop onto her back. On instinct she lashed out with her foot and felt it connect solidly with something.

"Sumbitch," growled Rune as he bent over and clasped his knee, staring to hobble backwards. Valentine kicked out again and caught her former mentor in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards and fall as well.

 _Oum-damn it,_ Valentine growled as she paused on hands and knees to spit a mixture of blood and saliva into the floorboards. Standing shakily, the young woman began to run unsteadily towards the nearest exit. _I hurt Rune's leg. I need to run, find another member of the tribe-_

She never heard the shot that hit her. A dust round smashed into the right side of her face and detonated, throwing her back to the ground like she had been clotheslined by a bullhead. A ringing tone pierced her ear to the point she could hear nothing else, and the scent of copper filled her nose as blood oozed from both nostrils.

 _Aura… gone. No more._

Rising to her feet was a monumental effort, and she never made it more than halfway. The world was still spinning and slanted, throwing her back to the ground.

All Valentine managed was to sit upright with her back against the wall while she watched Rune reload his revolver he picked up.

"All you had to do was help me help you," wheezed Rune as he slotted rounds into place. "But you forced my hand. Sorry brat."

 _I'm not going to go out. I won't._

Desperation perfected Valentine's focus, and her semblance sprang into life. Behind Rune, the half-decayed body of the Jess began to stir. It's limbs were missing chunks of flesh, and it was even more horrifying for having ribs and skull partially exposed. But it was alive.

The Ursa Major rose slowly, unable to understand why it had been on the floor, or why it was wracked with pain. All it's limited mind saw through the haze of agony was two targets. Both were surrounded with negative feelings - but one was closer.

The first Rune knew of the danger behind him was when a deep, bubbling huff came from the enormous creature. Rune, who had just snapped his pistol together, crinkled his eyes together in confusion. When the gurgling breaths turned into a deranged roar the old man finally spun around, but far too late.

A massive paw batted Rune into a wall and the giant beast did not hesitate to jump on him. Screaming, Rune emptied every single round he had into the torso and stomach to no effect. It's chest cavity had been hollowed out by the powerful rounds, cutting off its howls - but still it worked to tear the old man limb from limb.

"Valentine please! Please Oum don't do this! Valentine-" The girl shut out Rune's desperate pleas as his aura broke. Silence reigned not long afterwards.

The ursa tore at Rune's corpse briefly, the chunks of flesh that it swallowed dropping back out of its open body. As soon as it's red eyes turned to Valentine, she relinquished her hold on it.

The ursa collapsed back to the ground, even more dead than it had been scant moments ago if such a thing was possible.

 _It's over._ Valentine breathed a sigh of relief. _Oh Oum it's finally over._ She made eye contact with the desecrated body of Rune, his eyes staring blankly back, one hand extended as if to beg for a reprieve that would never come. She shuddered and turned away.

 _Gotta get - back to the group before they leave._ Using the wall as a support, the girl slowly struggled to her feet. A burning, stabbing sensation began to filter in from her face as she shuffled towards the hole the ursa made earlier.

One hand lifted to her cheek and came away red, as if she had dipped her fingertips into watery paint. Her life slowly dropped out of her nose and the corner of her mouth to stain the tan tunic. Clumps of her hair stuck to her bloodied cheek and ear, the blonde highlights slowly turning crimson.

Her limbs felt like jelly-filled cement and there were a small army of other contusions and bruises covering her body. It may not have looked pretty right now, but most of the wounds were superficial - her aura having taken the brunt of every attack. Valentine would live to fight another day.

The house creaked and groaned menacingly as she leaned against the wall, much of the load- bearing structure having been damaged by the fighting and the grimm. It was already past the point of no return for staying upright. The only question was _how_ long.

Unfortunately for Valentine, her five-foot nine frame, as inconsequential as it may have seemed, set off a chain reaction.

She felt the wall beneath her fingers shift, as the groaning and creaking rose to a cacophony. One pillar gave way, then a second - and suddenly the entire house started to lean over in one direction. It happened with almost comical slowness, and by the time Valentine realized it wouldn't stabilize it was too late.

She made a dash for the outside, fear overcoming her wounds as she streaked towards the shrinking morning light. Then a huge weight impacted the top of her head, and all she knew was darkness.

 **A/N: So, I hope that went pretty well. Just a few thoughts for you all:**

 **Valentine's moral fabric and moral code isn't consistent. It's twisted, full of holes, and I realize that - it likely wasn't a mistake. It was never supposed to make total sense to those of us on the outside. It's something that she's been indoctrinated into, and is going to struggle to fit into her life outside of the bandits.**

 **This story is going to be a form of anti-hero in the shape of Valentine Cora, and she will eventually make her way to Beacon - but not without plenty of twists beforehand. I'm not going to just drop her in and, "Woah, right after this crisis, suddenly she's going to attend Beacon. Here we go kids!" Nope. None of that.**

 **Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed. Constructive criticism and thoughts are always welcomed! See you on the other side.**

 **PS: I love all the comments that exploded into the last chapter of JoAT - I'm going to turn the ending author's note into an area for me to explain my thinking and reasoning when i post the next chapter. Those of you who commented that may read this story - answers are coming :)**


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